


Secrets

by MistressKat



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Angst, Introspection, M/M, Post-Series, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He may be forgiven, he may even be loved, but trust comes more slowly. If it comes at all.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MeganMoonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganMoonlight/gifts).



> I wanted to write ficlets in brand new fandoms. MeganMoonlight gave me the fandom, pairing and ‘Pythagoras loves cuddling’ as a prompt. The outcome is almost certainly nothing like she wanted and bears only vague resemblance to the prompt. Sorry :(

 

The sea makes him quake the way sky never could, not even when he was falling from it, the flaming skeleton of wings disintegrating around him. You could always see what was coming from above even if it was your own death. The sea, however, hid its terrors and treasures alike and Icarus is more than done with secrets, wants everything out in the open.  
  
Too bad he seems to be the only one.  
  
Icarus leans on the railing, watching the waves break against the bow as the _Argo_ cuts through the water, swift and somehow precise like a blade headed to a waiting heart. Somewhere beyond the horizon the isle of Lemnos is indeed looming, and deep down Icarus fears its beat though he has not yet heard it.  
  
Aboard the ship, people are guarding their secrets as surely as the sea. Jason and Ariadne are acting like no newlyweds Icarus has ever seen, circling each other warily and with an underlying current of desperation that looks like love but feels like danger. Hercules is all jokes and plans, wine and forced merriment; a house with a perfect front but nothing but empty rooms behind it. And Cassandra, who speaks only the truth so that no one questions the things left unsaid, is keeping not her own secrets but those of gods.  
  
Among them all Pythagoras flits and hovers, his worry almost tangible, covering them all like a too thin blanket against winter. It wears him more than the journey, more than the constant wind and spray of salt water, and no one seems to notice. Icarus doesn’t have a heart as big and generous as Pythagoras’; his love is a narrow, imperfect thing, focused on one man and ablaze with a heat that scares him.  
  
Pythagoras keeps his distance during the day; close but not touching, smiling but not without reservation. Icarus doesn’t push it. He may be forgiven, he may even be loved, but trust comes more slowly. If it comes at all.  
  
At night though it’s another story. Pythagoras comes to him in the dark, slow and hesitant at first as he lies down, then more urgent as he presses his angles against Icarus like a puzzle box locking into place. His hands are clever and far too knowing, seeking warm skin and wrenching muffled cries as Icarus arches into his touch and gives and gives and _gives_ , everything Pythagoras wants, _everything_.  
  
Later, in the long quiet hours under the stars when Pythagoras is warm and asleep in his arms and the ocean lulls the ship with deceptive gentleness, Icarus thinks he is right not to trust him, right to keep some part of himself back. After all, Icarus knows his own heart, knows that once crossed the lines have a habit of shifting further, that treachery becomes just another word for sacrifice.  
  
It seems he has a one more secret to keep still. With a certainty that sits in the pit of his stomach like a hot coal, heavy and burning, Icarus knows the true measure of his love, the terrible shape of it.  
  
If he needs to, he will betray them all just to keep Pythagoras safe.

 


End file.
